New York City is a big place with a lot of big food. When I hear that a restaurant has "the best" of something I'm usually a little skeptical and, as much as I love to eat, I am in no way a connoisseur of any particular type of food; if it tastes good, I'll eat it.
My friend Jake is the ultimate persnickety eater and drinker. On a recent trip to a pub, he took it upon himself to educate the bartender on the sub par pint of Boddingtons she poured, pointing out that this particular establishment was not using the required nitrogen in its tap. So when I got the word that we would be lunching at Keste Pizza & Vino, recently written up in Time Out as having the best pizza in The City, I knew we were in for a little adventure and a lot of gastronomic critique.
